


International Affairs

by CelestialIguana



Series: vixx royalty au [2]
Category: VIXX
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Fluff, M/M, No Beta, Non-Explicit Sex, gratuitous use of season imagery, neo if you squint, no one dies and everyone's happy, plot twist there IS a plot, they're soulmates don't argue with me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-26 16:33:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20029717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelestialIguana/pseuds/CelestialIguana
Summary: Hongbin props himself up on his elbows and sweeps his hair off his face. “You’re jealous.”“I’m not,” Wonsik says (read: whines), but his ears blush a little more red at the statement. “I was just curious. About your-”“Business deals?” Hongbin offers, grinning.“Yes. I’m terribly interested in your business deals.” Wonsik only slightly stumbles over the sentence, to his credit.~Or, the same story, told from a new perspective. Lee Hongbin has a way with words.~





	International Affairs

**Author's Note:**

> Back by popular demand, it's your soft royal boyfriends, wonsik and hongbin. 
> 
> !! This is Part 2 of this au. I strongly suggest reading part 1 before this one, if you want to understand the context. Wonsik would appreciate it :)

Eleven minus three is eight. Hongbin knows this, but he isn’t sure his brothers do, with how little they seem to care that almost a quarter of their family no longer shows up for dinner. It’s hard, but not as hard as people seem to think it should be. Just a number, really. If he continued thinking in numbers, Hongbin could count the number of times he’d spoken with Ten, Six, and Four on one hand. Castles ran large in the North. So much space for eleven minus three people it bordered on distasteful.

(It seems impractical to Hongbin, really. When warmth is such a commodity, why create castles made of vast stone caverns and tunnels that dampen your clothes and your heart? Perhaps humans were never meant to live here, and the looming stone towers are frozen shadows leftover from a long dead civilization. Or perhaps the architects were just sorely mistaken.)

But eight is less than eleven, so there’s that. Not that Hongbin cares all that much about lineage; he’s never wanted the Northern throne. (He’s never wanted any throne at all. He doesn’t need one to make men kneel.)

The North is cold and harsh, and the longer Hongbin lives here the more numb he feels, as if the cold leaks into his bones and freezes his body from the inside out. You’d think the people born in the North would be more accustomed to the weather, but sometimes Hongbin imagines his lips petrifying into a thin line as his eyes ice shut permanently, and he shudders from more than the chill in the air. 

So when the opportunity to spend some time down South comes spinning by, Hongbin snatches it from the air and packs his bags. It’s easy. (Too easy, really, to leave the place he’s lived all his life, but it’s easy to break ties when there weren’t many in the first place.) He says one goodbye, and it’s to the girl who saddles his horse for him.

“Have a good trip,” she says. Hongbin knows her name but he thinks he may be the only one who does. In the castle, at least. He nods his thanks as he leaves and hopes the winter doesn’t treat her too harshly.

The ice crunching under the horses is louder than Hongbin remembers. The castle vanishes in the snow-ridden clouds. Hongbin doesn’t look back. 

He doesn’t intend to return.

  
  


~~~

  
  


A laugh is the first thing Hongbin hears from the second prince of the South, and from that moment he decides that Prince Wonsik is an Ok Person. (Especially when compared to his brother, although Hongbin certainly enjoyed how red Woojin’s face became.)

The tour is wonderful, made better by Wonsik’s seemingly unlimited knowledge of the castle and its inhabitants. Every dark corner has a story, every room a history, and somehow Wonsik was privy to them all. (Hongbin has never had the kind of connection to his Northern fortress Wonsik has to his castle. To anything in the North really.)

Hongbin learns which cook to ask for late night snacks, which hallways lead to secret wine cellars beneath the castle and which lead to guard patrols, and which corner Taekwoon and Hakyeon like to make out in when they think no one’s around. (It’s the one behind the second floor library.)

Wonsik grabs his arm in a moment of forgetfulness and drags him into a small chamber. Hongbin allows it, because he’s touch starved and doesn’t want to scare the prince off so soon. 

“Supposedly a girl hung herself from these beams,” Wonsik says, almost whispering. “Her lover left her and she couldn’t live alone anymore.”

Hongbin winces. “That’s depressing. And typical. Depressingly typical.”

“What would you rather her have done?”

“Oh, I don’t know.” Hongbin looks up at the old wooden beams. There’s no sign of a noose or a spurned lover, not that either of those would leave much of a mark. “Find a new lover. Kill the old one. The line between love and hate runs pretty thin.”

Wonsik seems to consider the options. “I think I'd just find a new lover, in that situation. There can’t be only one for everyone, right?”

Hongbin nods thoughtfully. “Up until a while ago, I was leaning towards no one for myself.” And that was more than he had intended to say, but it’s too late to retract his words. And Wonsik just has a way of making one feel slightly drunk when around him.

“What changed?” Wonsik asks. And then he steps back slightly and catches himself, eyes going wide. “My apologies, that was out of line. You don’t have to answer.”

“Oh, you know,” Hongbin says, ignoring Wonsik’s stuttered apology. He tosses the prince a sideways glance. “New scenery and the like.”

Wonsik’s ears turn a cute shade of red. “Of course,” he manages. “I’ve always wanted to see the North.”

They step out of the dead lovers’ room and continue down the hallway. “The North isn’t all it’s made out to be,” Hongbin says. “Although, to be sure, it’s not made out to be much, so far South. So perhaps it would live up to your standards.”

Wonsik hums. “A shame, really. I’m sure it’s beautiful.” Hongbin shrugs. “It would be nice for us to foster peace, wouldn’t it? Like there was before,” Wonsik continues.

“I will do my best,” Hongbin promises. And he will. He will do whatever is best for himself, because Hongbin has no one else looking out for him. And this emissary position he has right now? Without it, one of his brothers is likely to ship him off to a faraway island, just to get rid of another blood relative. So for now, that means trade deals. And, as Wonsik finally brings him to his rooms, he spots a noble that looks ripe for the picking.

  
  


~~~

  
  


The South is warmer than Hongbin expects, although he doesn’t quite know if it’s because of the oppressive sun glaring off the miles of sand or the second prince’s eyes burning into the back of his head. 

Kim Wonsik caught his eye that first day in the courtyard and never left, following like a quiet shadow, always a few steps behind and yet simultaneously managing to be two steps ahead, reading Hongbin’s mind like an open book. Hongbin doesn’t know how he does it; his older brothers had never appreciated his machinations in all his years of stalking around the North like a pissed off icicle, but Wonsik is somehow able to see the strings he pulls with care, maneuvering the court through a colorful dance of words. The prince smiles prettily and offers harmless compliments to those who approach him, calling them by their names and asking after their sons. His warm eyes draw out so much more than they mean to say, and he doesn’t seem to realize how much control he could have over them, if he just twisted his smile into something a little sharper. (Or perhaps he does know, and he is simply just a better person than Hongbin.)

Wonsik, the second prince of the South and therefore never given a second glance, moves like a desert mirage, insubstantial but beautiful in its transience.

And in this kingdom of sand snakes and sun-hidden shadows, it’s all too easy for him to move through the silks and tapestries like smoke. And the best part is, none of the royals understand the weapon they have in their grasp. 

Although Hongbin is beginning to suspect that the King does not have quite the grasp on Wonsik he would like to have.

“Emissary Lee.”

A nasally voice grabs his attention. The gardens are made significantly less hot due to the multitudes of large leafed trees and fountains cooling the air, and Hongbin had been enjoying his walk until this man interrupted. But such is life. 

A quick glance at the signet ring confirms the man’s identity. 

“Lord Moon,” Hongbin replies, sketching a small bow. “A pleasure. Please accept my condolences for your father. The entire dispute was a tragic event.”

Moon bows his head in acceptance. He is young, face unlined, too young to be trying his luck in court, in Hongbin’s opinion. “Thank you,” the lord says. “The North and South both suffered greatly.”

Hongbin offered a small smile. “The North mourns for its losses, as does the South, I’m sure.” The North was not mourning its losses, as any prince dying to a Southern soldier was obviously unfit to rule the kingdom, but it’s not a bad thing to inspire empathy in your neighbors. “Let us endeavor to ensure such a brutal argument does not happen again.”

“Of course.” Moon twists his ring on his finger; it’s too large for him, and dented on the side. Hongbin can almost see the young man receiving the dreaded letter, heavy ring falling from the macabre envelope.

“As a sign of the North’s sorrow for your loss,” Hongbin says, “please allow us to send you a gift. The North is blessed with the sweetest fruits this time of year.”

The lord brightens. He obviously hasn’t yet learned that no gift comes free of charge. “My house is grateful for your gift,” he says. “You have my thanks.”

Hongbin smiles and bows his head slightly. Sometimes it’s just too easy. Moon’s lands lie on the single most profitable trade route between the two kingdoms, and if he could get the young lord to encourage the trade of more Northern exports, the North would profit.

He shakes Moon’s hand. And he’s just about to turn and ask the quietly spying prince if he would like to dine together when the burning presence disappears. 

_ How disappointing.  _

  
  


~~~

  
  


Lunch is perhaps the highlight of Hongbin’s time down South. Not only because of the food, although Southern food is vastly superior, in Hongbin’s opinion, but because the company is so pleasant.

“Sorry for the condition of my room,” the current company is saying. “I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Wonsik’s room isn’t out of order. The table they sit at is neatly set with plates and dishes, and the hard stone floor is carefully covered with soft furs. (They make Hongbin think of the North.) Hongbin doesn’t know what he thinks he’s apologizing for, but he nods and smiles anyway.

“I can assure you, mine is significantly worse. And I have fewer belongings.”

Wonsik gestures to the castle at large. “Are you enjoying your stay?”

“Very much so,” Hongbin says. “Your kingdom is beautiful. A little warm, sometimes, but beautiful regardless.”

Wonsik laughs, and Hongbin wants to laugh with him. “People insist on living in extremes, don’t they? North or South, never in between.”

Hongbin hums, trying to discreetly chug his glass of water before Wonsik expects an answer. Southern food is full of spice that he isn’t yet used to, and right now his tongue feels like it’s about to burn out of his mouth.

Wonsik raises an eyebrow, lips quirking into a small smile. “Is it spicy?”

And wow, Hongbin didn’t expect this level of sass from the prince when it’s quite obvious that the food is too spicy for Hongbin’s sensitive taste buds, but somehow it fits right into Hongbin’s mental picture like it was always missing.

Gasping a little, Hongbin nods. “I’m just-” Another large gulp of water. “-not used to it yet.”

Wonsik grins. “You should try this one,” he says, pushing another dish that looks threateningly red closer to Hongbin. 

Hongbin scoots his chair back from the table, taking his glass of water with him. “I must decline,” he croaks, mouth feeling a little numb. “I need my tongue to be in working condition.”

“In that case, you should retire for the day. Your business must be exhausting,” Wonsik suggests. He eats the alarming red dish with ease. It scares Hongbin, just a little bit.

He ignores the pain in his mouth for long enough to put two coherent thoughts together. “What if I was intending to use it in a more personal setting?”

Wonsik coughs, ears blushing red in a manner Hongbin finds pleasing. “I suppose that would be up to your discretion.”

“You never know when a dexterous tongue comes in handy.” At this point, Hongbin is making it his mission to see how red he can make Wonsik’s face. (It’s coming close to the shade of the dish that caused Hongbin so much pain, and he takes a savage pleasure in that fact.)

Hongbin tracks the movement of Wonsik’s throat as he swallows drily. “That’s true,” Wonsik says, looking anywhere but Hongbin’s face. “I hope the spice hasn’t done permanent damage. What a shame that would be.”

Hongbin laughs in surprise. He supposes he should stop being so surprised by the prince’s comments. 

“The court would mourn the loss,” he says, grinning. Wonsik looks at him from under his long lashes.

“So would I.”

Hongbin’s heart skips a beat. He winks in an effort to hide his fumble. “I’m glad someone appreciates my abilities.”

Wonsik frowns slightly. “You’re worth more than your words, you know. Worth more than just the trade deals you arrange.”

Hongbin freezes, glass of water halfway to his lips. It’s odd, to hear such a sentiment from someone you’ve spoken with all of two times when his own family had only ever seen his value in terms of numbers and documents. And he’s too smart to not have known what his family was, how they looked at him, but the specifics he likes to shove into a box hiding in a dark recess of his mind and only take them out with the expensive alcohol. And Wonsik just put a crack in the walls of that box.

“Of course I am,” Hongbin manages, only hesitating the slightest bit over the words. He gives himself a mental shake. “I am invaluable.”

Wonsik meets his eyes, and Hongbin gets the feeling he’s looking right past the colorful words Hongbin tosses around and hides behind, and it’s less uncomfortable than he would have thought. (Or perhaps it’s again simply just the present company.)

But the prince doesn’t say anything further on the topic of Hongbin’s mysterious self-esteem and instead refills his glass of water. “I look forward to seeing the effects of your invaluable tongue,” he deadpans.

Hongbin almost chokes on his water. “Thank you, your highness.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Hongbin gives Wonsik so many invitations he starts to worry the prince doesn’t actually have any interest in him, but these worries are soon assuaged. And it comes to light that the prince is insatiable.

So it doesn’t come as much of a surprise that the prince follows Hongbin back to his room after the emissary finishes his particularly long meeting with a particularly beautiful lady.

“Your Highness,” Hongbin says, upon the guards opening the doors. “What a surprise.” Wonsik looks stressed, to say the least.

“Don’t call me that.” He strides quickly across the few feet of stone separating them and grabs Hongbin’s chin, bringing his face to his.

Hongbin grins through Wonsik’s fingers. “You’re a prince.”

“So are you.”

“That’s debatable,” Hongbin protests, before Wonsik brings his lips to meet his, an uncomfortable stretch for Hongbin’s neck. But he would never pull away. Instead he leans forward on his hands, deepening the kiss and licking into Wonsik’s mouth. Hongbin swallows the prince’s soft sighs. When Wonsik breaks the kiss to breath, his lips are red and swollen where Hongbin bit at them. He stares Hongbin down with dark eyes.

Hongbin stretches, allowing his mouth to drop open teasingly. “I’m feeling particularly tired right now. I hope you can put in more effort than you normally do.”

“I put in just as much effort you do,” Wonsik mutters, pushing Hongbin back onto the bed by the shoulders.

Hongbin hums. His fingers begin undoing the laces tying Wonsik’s shirt closed. “You never put it in, though, do you-”

His voice cuts off as Wonsik crushes his lips to his, forcing a surprised moan from Hongbin’s lips. The prince shoves his tongue between Hongbin’s teeth with a force he’s not used to receiving. 

(Hongbin loves the taste of his lips. He suspects the prince had been enjoying a meal of the last summer fruits, because he can still taste the sweet remnants of sugar on his tongue.) 

“Feeling aggressive today?” Hongbin gasps under the onslaught of kisses.

Wonsik nips at his bottom lip. “How was your meeting with the Lady Ahn,” he asks, voice deeper than Hongbin’s ever heard it. And suddenly everything clicks into place.

Hongbin props himself up on his elbows and sweeps his hair off his face. “You’re jealous.”

“I’m not,” Wonsik says (read: whines), but his ears blush a little more red at the statement. “I was just curious. About your-”

“Business deals?” Hongbin offers, grinning.

“Yes. I’m terribly interested in your business deals.” Wonsik only slightly stumbles over the sentence, to his credit.

Hongbin wraps his arms around Wonsik’s neck and tugs him down for another kiss. Wonsik holds himself over Hongbin on his elbows. Breath brushing against his lips, Hongbin says, “In that case, let me tell you all about my  _ business deals.” _

He slips his cold hands under Wonsik’s shirt, stroking down the hard planes of his chest. Wonsik shivers at the temperature. “They involve the facilitation of exchange between kingdoms-”

Hongbin deftly pops the button on Wonsik’s pants. “-the betterment of foreign relations-”

And as he finally wraps his fingers around Wonsik’s dick, he harshly bites the prince’s lower lip. “-and your royal highness Kim Wonsik fucking me so as to not loses his good standing with the Northern Kingdom.”

Wonsik laughs breathlessly, sucking dark marks down Hongbin’s neck and chest.

“In that case,” he says, “I suppose I must. For the betterment of foreign relations.”

Hongbin grins against Wonsik’s lips. “For the betterment of foreign relations.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Perhaps the heat addled Hongbin’s brain, but somewhere along the way, during the long Southern days, Hongbin’s world shifted. Something slipped out of place. (Or rather, snapped into place.) Because at some point over the weeks and months -Hongbin’s not quite sure when- he stopped thinking about the next trade deal and the next complacent noble and started thinking about Wonsik.

And the North is far away; it’s hard to keep the North’s best interests in mind when Wonsik provides a much closer (and much warmer) purpose for which to strive. Hongbin knows first hand that the North doesn’t lack for royalty. His brothers would welcome his permanent departure from Northern politics with open arms and would continue ruling their kingdom as they always had, with or without Hongbin’s input.

So it’s easy to recalibrate his perspective. It’s easy to drop Wonsik’s name in conversations with just the right people, easy to remind people who it was that asked after their son last week, easy to turn the second prince into the trapped prince. And soon the court sees Wonsik not as a shadow hiding in the corner but a prince locked in the shadows by a cruel older brother, the same older brother who,  _ gasp,  _ has actually never asked after their son. (What’s up with that?)

As the court slowly boils over, Wonsik corners Hongbin in an empty hallway, eyes blazing. He grabs Hongbin’s arm roughly.

“What are you doing?”

Hongbin cocked his head. “I’m sorry?”

“To the court,” he hisses. “What are you doing to the court?”

Hongbin shifts his weight back, away from Wonsik’s burning eyes. “I’m not doing anything,” he tries.

Wonsik narrows his eyes. “I can hear your words in their mouths,” he says. “Talking about how Woojin doesn’t deserve to be king, how it’s so unfair that the older brother is given the throne, how the  _ poor second prince  _ would be an improvement.” A small grin slips over Hongbin’s lips. It’s inevitable that his success make him smile, and Wonsik is cruel to use the tactic. (And somehow knows him too well.)

Wonsik doesn’t miss the movement. “I knew it. I knew this was your doing.”

“I’m barely doing anything,” Hongbin protests, spreading his hands. “Just pointing them in the right direction.”

Wonsik shoves his shoulders lightly, sending Hongbin stumbling back a step. “That’s not the right direction, you idiot!”

Hongbin blinks. “What?” He doesn’t think anyone’s called him an idiot in his life.

The prince sighs, jerklily running his hands through his hair. “How are you able to control the court like you do and yet can’t see what’s right in front of you?”

Hongbin is struck speechless, something only one person has ever been able to accomplish. (It’s Wonsik, of course.)

Hongbin starts as the prince grabs his face between his hands. “I don’t want to be king, Hongbin.”

“You don’t-”

“I don’t want to be king.”

Hongbin opens his mouth. And then closes it again. And then opens it. “I don’t understand.”

“You wouldn’t,” Wonsik mutters, looking around like the words are hanging in the air. “You must have gone years hating your brothers for taking the throne from you.”

He’s not wrong; Hongbin’s teenage years had been spent plotting coup after coup, testing poisons and daggers in his room. The border dispute had come at the perfect time to distract him from his murderous tendencies and bend him towards politics. (He still carries a dagger around with him. Never hurts to be careful.)

“I’ve never wanted the throne,” Wonsik continues, quietly. “Woojin can have it. He’ll be a fine king. I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”

“The people love you. They don’t love Woojin.”

“They can love me as their prince.”

Hongbin rolls his eyes. “I just- why not? Why not, Wonsik?” 

Wonsik sighs and leans back on his heels. “I love the South, Hongbin, don’t misunderstand. But I can’t tie myself to this castle. I can’t be here forever like I would need to be.” He looks up, eyes almost pleading with Hongbin to understand. “I want to see other places. I want to see the rest of the South, and the North, and all the places in between. And I can’t do that if I’m king.”

Hongbin gets it. Really, he does. But he can’t help but feel like Wonsik’s giving up something huge. “People would finally see you for who you are.”  _ They would finally see you for your warm eyes that see so much more than what’s on the surface and that soft voice that says so much more it seems.  _

A small smile spreads over Wonsik’s lips. “Everyone I care about already does.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Autumn ends slowly. The days get colder and nights longer and Hongbin feels a little more comfortable with the slight chill in the air. He packs his bags and tracks his guards down. (They had long since established his relative safety in the palace and had dedicated themselves to the protection of certain places of intrigue in the town.)

He’s been dreading this day for weeks now, something he hadn’t expected. (To be honest, he wasn’t sure what he was expecting. He’d thought he’d be happy to leave the stifling warmth of the South, but he found he would miss the dark heat of a certain prince’s eyes.) But the season is over, and he has already arranged a visit with Lord Moon near the border. From there, perhaps he might pay a visit to the Lady of the West.

The Northern emissary, planning his permanent departure from the ice.

And just as he places a foot in the stirrup, guards lining up to trot out of the courtyard, a voice speaking a language as shifting as the sands stops him in his tracks. 

“Emissary Lee,” Wonsik calls, a little breathless. And then, a heartbeat later, “Hongbin.”

Hongbin pauses midstep. He hadn’t wanted to hear Wonsik’s voice as he left. It just made everything that much harder.

“Your Highness.” Hongbin keeps his eyes on the horse in front of him. “Come to see me off?”

Wonsik hesitates. “Yes,” he says. The word digs itself into Hongbin’s heart. But then Wonsik continues. “And to propose an alternative.”

Hongbin doesn’t want to get his hopes up. He doesn’t want to encourage the butterflies in his stomach, but Wonsik makes it so hard and it’s already a lost cause.

“What is your proposal?”

Wonsik steps closer and grabs the reigns from Hongbin. The guards on their horses don’t even flinch, as if they know the prince is no threat to their ward. Hongbin doesn’t know whether that’s a good thing.

“Stay,” he says, and Hongbin’s heart stops. “Stay with me, maybe not in this castle, maybe not in the South, but by my side, at least. Because I’ve never wanted to be king or wanted to be anything like I want to be with you.”

Hongbin, for the second time in recent history, is speechless.

Wonsik drops the reigns and grabs his hands. “Hongbin, please, I can see in your eyes that you don’t want to leave. So don’t.”

“I- I’m an emissary, Wonsik. I have to leave.” But he doesn’t want to.

“Then I’ll go with you.” The prince meets his eyes, unafraid and unapologetic. “I’ve always wanted to see the North.”

“I’m not going to the North, you know. Not quite.”

“It’s close enough,” Wonsik grumbles. “But you’re changing the subject.”

“You’re the  _ prince.  _ You can’t just  _ leave  _ on a spur of the moment decision to run off with an emissary.” Hongbin has no idea where the words spilling off his tongue are coming from, and at this point it’s past his capacity to care. Wonsik has effectively ripped all thought-processing capabilities from his mind.

Wonsik shakes his head, hands warm around Hongbin’s. Too often Hongbin’s hands are ice cold. “Technically you’re a prince,” Wonsik says. “And I really don’t care what the court thinks. I’ve spent far too long in this castle for their opinions to matter. You of all people should know how easily their minds sway from side to side.”

Hongbin’s knees feel weak and the last, brittle walls protecting his mind from the onslaught that is Kim Wonsik come tumbling down. “You really want to come with me?” he asks tentatively. Wonsik nods. “I have no idea where I’m going after Lord Moon’s hospitality runs out.”

Wonsik smiles and wraps an arm around Hongbin’s waist. “We’re royalty,” he says, eyes warm and bright. “Hospitality never runs out.”

  
  


~~~

  
  


Lord Moon welcomes them with open arms and remembers to thank Hongbin for his thoughtful gift, remarking that his wife liked the fruit so much they had to continue trade. Hongbin tosses a wink over his shoulder at Wonsik, sitting on his small horse. And after they settle into their rooms, Hongbin takes his horse out to the border. 

It’s a quiet affair; the snow muffles the sound of the horses hooves and Hongbin’s breaths mist over in the cold air. The flora steadily turns white, frosted over with new winter snow. Pine needles sprinkle the ground. He knows he had decided not to return, but the Hongbin who had made that decision is far removed from the current one, and as he steps off his horse and his boots sink into the snow, he catches Wonsik smiling. The prince brushes frost from Hongbin’s shoulders.

“Pretty,” he says.

Hongbin looks out at the infinite stretch of white. “I suppose the view isn’t bad. You can’t feel the cold yet, but once it’s in you it never leaves.”

“True,” Wonsik says, “But that wasn’t what I was talking about.”

Hongbin would’ve blushed if it hadn’t been this cold.

He turns to Wonsik, whose lips are the tiniest bit blue. Hongbin wraps his arms around the prince’s neck and presses a kiss to those blue lips, intent on warming them up. He can feel Wonsik smile into the kiss. It’s soft, in a way not many of their kisses are, but it still has the ability to make Hongbin’s heart miss a beat. And then Wonsik nips at his lips and it’s no longer sweet. Hongbin bites back, teeth pulling at Wonsik’s lower lip and tongue licking into his mouth with deft strokes.

“It’s too cold for this,” Wonsik mumbles against his lips. “I can’t feel my fingers.”

Hongbin grins. Wonsik’s lips look even redder against the backdrop of white. He pulls the prince closer to his side and rests his neck on Wonsik’s shoulder. The North looks cold and lifeless, but Hongbin’s chest feels warm. Warm from Wonsik’s kisses and his eyes and all the possibilities stretched out before him like infinite miles of snow, so many more than he ever dreamed of. Lord Moon may kick them out before the month’s end, but Hongbin can talk a noble out of their inheritance if he wished, and Wonsik probably knows their secrets and the shadows kept close to their chest. Together, the world doesn’t stand a chance.

They intend to see the world. North and South and everything In Between.

And as they stand, shivering in the cold, and the first flakes of snow begin to drift from the pale sky, Hongbin glances at Wonsik and smiles. 

It ends with a whisper. (Or, rather, begins with one, depending on your perspective.) “I love this,” Wonsik says, so quietly the snow almost mutes his voice entirely, and Hongbin sighs contentedly against his shoulder, neither agreeing or disagreeing with the statement.

He thinks Wonsik understands anyway.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for all of your wonderful comments on the first part of this series. I had so much fun writing this and I hoped you enjoyed reading :)


End file.
